


Captured

by wesoftserv



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belly Kink, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Praise Kink, Situational Humiliation, Stuffing, Teasing, Verbal Humiliation, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Weight Gain, body issues, chubby bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 00:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesoftserv/pseuds/wesoftserv
Summary: Thank you to the amazing CapriciousKitten, the best beta a girl could ask for. Wouldn't trade ya for a million bucks!





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing CapriciousKitten, the best beta a girl could ask for. Wouldn't trade ya for a million bucks!

Bucky squirms in his seat, trying and failing to push the rope around his wrists down enough to wriggle free. He’s in the back of a van, black cloth over his eyes, sitting cross-legged and shoved into a corner on the metal floor. He’s dressed in his sleeping clothes: old sweatpants and a soft, snug T-shirt that pulls tightly over his belly and clings to his arms. It used to be Steve’s, but Bucky wears it to bed now. His feet are bare against the cold floor. 

 

They’ve been driving for what feels like about an hour when the van slows to turn down a bumpy path, and he hears metal clanging around him. There are at least two men up front in the cab of the van, and Bucky strains his ears to hear their hushed voices. 

 

When that doesn’t work, Bucky pushes himself farther back against the wall of the van, trying in vain to free his wrists from the thick paracord. He feels his belly round out in front of him, and he spreads his knees to let it settle between his thighs. 

 

Bucky lets out a heavy breath and lets his head fall back to  _ thunk _ against the wall behind him. He doesn’t know what’s worse: being kidnapped out of his own bed without a single weapon on his person, or the fact that despite twelve years in the Army, he can’t slip out of a simple wrist tie. He was still strong enough; he flexed his biceps and felt the cord tighten in response. Then he felt cool air on the underside of his belly and squirmed again, knowing Steve’s shirt was riding up in the front to expose his gut. He thought about how he must look, round and soft and stuck, wedged in the back of this tin can and at the mercy of his captors. 

  
  


Bucky knows he’s put on weight, and Steve has definitely noticed, but he never mentioned it. When they met two years ago in Sam Wilson’s therapy group at the VA, Bucky was trying and failing to deal with his PTSD. He’d served his time in the Army, twelve long years of memories that he tucked away in a dark corner of his mind. Regardless of his time out of the service, he still felt quiet and twitchy, unable to differentiate between the past and the present. He’d drawn into himself, only coming out to shuffle down the street to his group therapy sessions, which his psychiatrist had ordered him to attend. He was barely eating, barely making ends meet, and barely making it out of the house. Bucky remembered being able to feel his ribs like fingers poking out of his skin. His muscles, while thick and ropey, bulged out awkwardly like lumps of clay. During their sessions, he was the only one who seemed to realize Captain America was perched in the back of the room dressed like an overly large high school student.  

 

Bucky felt like he’d known Steve all his life. More than common interests, Steve understood what he needed like no one had since he’d come home from the war. He stayed close, but not too close, always with a hand on Bucky’s shoulder or a foot pressed against his thigh on the couch. They could spend hours, days together and not say a word. Steve took care of him with a gentleness he had never expected from America’s favorite supersoldier. 

 

It had started out small, as most things do. Steve splurged for dessert on their first date because he noticed Bucky had a sweet tooth. He brought homemade cookies and pies to their group therapy sessions, and smiled fondly when Bucky got seconds. Later, Bucky found out that Steve was a horrible baker, but he had paid Sam’s mother to prepare baked goods just so Bucky would have good things to eat any time he wanted. 

 

That habit washed over into their eventual relationship, when Steve would show up at his door on a whim, clutching a dozen fresh chocolate chip cookies from the bakery on the corner in lieu of flowers, his handsome smile lighting up the entire block. Bucky was a goner, and so was his waistline. 

 

But they never addressed it. Steve liked taking care of Bucky, and despite his pride, Bucky liked letting him. He found it satisfying to complete little tasks that Steve laid out for him, like cleaning his plate of the last traces of dinner or taking just one more bite of dessert. Bucky liked coaxing out that soft, secret smile that Steve reserved just for him. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something undeniably warm about letting Steve cook for him and watch over him until he had finished every last drop. 

 

“C’mon, Buck. Down the rest of that for me, will ya? It tastes terrible left over.” 

 

“There’s only two pieces left. Finish them for me, please?”

 

“Hey Bucky, there’s a couple more bites left of this stew. Will you eat it for me so I can wash the pot?”

 

And Bucky would oblige him every time. It was like a charade they kept up, Steve pretending he wasn’t feeding Bucky and Bucky pretending like he needed every bite that Steve offered him. 

Growing up, he was never exactly thin, even before the Army. His arms were always filled out with lean muscle, his shoulders and chest broad. He’d always had a soft chin, the cleft there making it even more noticeable, even in his dark days when he rarely ate. He’d never had washboard abs either, always a light padding of softness over his middle. 

 

So when he began to notice a tightening in his clothes each morning, especially after nights he spent with Steve, Bucky wasn’t surprised. He really began to notice when they started living together. He was always warm and so full after each meal, almost uncomfortably so, and the fabric of his jeans started pressing into the swollen skin of his belly. His shirts began to ride up and separate from where they met his pants, the skin of his soft hips exposed as he moved to try and get comfortable. It always send a jolt of fear down his spine when the air would hit his exposed skin, reminding him that Steve could see he was growing out of his clothes, and he would try to tug them down as quickly as he could. 

 

Bucky found himself pulling constantly at his waistband, trying to give himself more room for his growing paunch, and hoping Steve wouldn’t notice each night during dinner. 

Soon his middle was expanding until it swelled over all his pants, leaving red, angry lines pressed into his skin. He would rub them in wonder each night as he undressed, running fingers over the itchy skin. It started as a potbelly, swelling out and flattening beneath his shirts. But the way Steve fed him at every opportunity, he looked down one day and noticed his belly now settled in his lap, swelling forward like rising dough. 

 

They had never addressed it, but it was the elephant in the room. Bucky found his hand resting on his gut more and more: rubbing it gently after a meal, stroking it absentmindedly while they watched TV together in the living room. He was growing right before his eyes, and he felt like there was nothing he could do about it. He knew he should stop before Steve caught on to his gluttony, but it was impossible to turn the man down when Steve was offering him food like Bucky was a starving orphan. Topped off with that shining Captain America smile, Bucky was helpless to do more than swallow whatever Steve told him to. He just hoped Steve hadn’t noticed, because surely he wouldn’t take Bucky chubby and out of shape. 

 

Bucky was soft now, and he knew it. His body was still strong, arms and chest sturdy under a layer of new padding. His legs became thick like tree trunks, supporting his new weight. Steve continued to look at him like he hung the moon, stroking a thumb over his chubby cheeks before he pressed the sweetest kisses against Bucky’s lips. 

 

* * *

The van jerked to a stop, snapping Bucky away from his thoughts of Steve. He itched to pull his  hand free, if only to be able to pull down the front of his T-shirt. He heard the rear doors open and sunlight blinded him, even through the dark blindfold. He turned his head away, but thick hands grabbed him, one on each arm, and hauled him to his feet. He scrabbled to get his bearings and tried to take in his surroundings as best he could. He was being lead along gravel, and he tried not to wince as it dug into his bare feet.

 

He heard the scrape of metal, possibly a door, and the light changed again, dimming enough that Bucky knew he was being led inside. Arms tugged him along a concrete floor, and he could hear the echo of movement bouncing off the walls around him. 

 

Finally, they came to an abrupt halt, and the black cloth was snatched away from Bucky’s eyes, the sudden light momentarily blinding him. 

 

He squinted, blinking away the dark spots dancing across his vision, and barely made out a bald man sitting at a card table, his hands clasped casually as he eyed Bucky with a salacious grin. 

 

“Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky’s name dripped off the man’s lips like honey, slow and heavy. “What a pleasure, really, to meet the treasure Captain America keeps squirrelled away in his den.”

 

Bucky’s chest constricted at the mention of Steve. He knew this had to be some ploy against Captain America, but it was the first time he’d really let himself entertain the idea that Steve was the dancing monkey behind the shield and cowl. Whomever went after Cap was really going after Steve.  _ His _ Steve. 

 

Bucky flexed his forearms again, testing the paracord still trapping his wrists behind his back. 

 

The man continued with a smile. “What? No hug for an old friend? Maybe you don’t recognize me, hm?” 

Bucky tilted his chin to the side, eyeing the man in front of him. He felt like he should know him, should remember the wicked smirk and the dark, calculating eyes. But his brain fell short, as it often did since his last tour before retirement and his honorable discharge.

“You’ve definitely changed since the last time I saw you. Seems you took retirement pretty seriously, eh  _ Soldat?” _

 

At the sound of that one word, the memories came pouring over him, ice water flooding through his veins. The face, the dark laugh, the thick, calloused fingers: he knew this man. He’d worked with this man in the Army; he’d lead a group of supposed allies that ran with Bucky’s team. On a failed mission, Bucky’s platoon was compromised and Bucky was jerked away into a back room, strapped to a table and surrounded by scientists. 

 

His memories about the events of those initial experiments come in fits and bursts. His therapist always said they were repressed due to trauma, but Bucky could feel them spilling forth now at the sight of the man who’d been posing as his teammate in order to capture potential victims for a group called Hydra. 

 

“This is self-explanatory, no? I need to see the Captain. He will not oblige me, so I brought you here to speed up the process. I have the red carpet laid out for him, all he has to do is ride in on his white horse and, ” He snapped his fingers and gave Bucky a wink. “ _ Boom _ . Problem solved. I hope you kissed him goodbye this morning.”

 

Bucky could feel his heart thundering in his ears, his chest heaved with heavy breaths. He rolled his broad shoulders back, the urge to break free and rip the man limb from limb crawling over his skin like an army of ants. His nemesis stood from the table and crossed his hands behind his back, coming around to stand in front of Bucky. The anger rolled over him again and again, water soon to boil over. His jaw was clenched tight, nose crinkled in a grimace. 

 

“But you will behave, like a good damsel, won’t you,  _ Soldat?” _

 

Bucky snorted in response, his shoulders trembling with barely-contained rage. 

 

“It would be easy for you to end this now, no? You could eat me alive, as I trained you. Has the Captain met the Winter Soldier?”

 

Just like that, the fire scorching Bucky’s wrath was immediately doused, ice clutching at his throat in fear. He shrunk back away from the man. 

 

“Ah, he does remember,” the man responded with a slow, malicious grin. He reached into his sport jacket and pulled out a leather bound book with a large star stamped on the cover. Bucky’s breath died in his throat. 

 

He jolted backward, only to be pushed back by the two guards behind them. He shut his eyes tight: this was all a nightmare. One of the many varieties that played over and over in his head each night. If he could just wake up, he’d be back in his bed and Steve---

 

“Do you need me to remind you of the words? I’ve got them stored up here.” He tapped his temple with a smile and stepped closer to Bucky. He tapped Bucky under the chin with the edge of the book, forcing his chin forward. 

 

“Eyes forward,  _ Soldat,” _ he admonished softly. He raised his hand and smoothed a thumb over Bucky’s cheek, much like Steve had done this morning before he left. Bucky trembled. 

 

“Where shall we start?  _ One? Rusted?  _ You remember  _ traincar?”  _ The man repeated the words in English instead of Russian, but Bucky still felt his body twitch in response, his muscle clenching and spasming. He let out a low moan. 

 

“I will say, you’re not much of a weapon any more, are you?” The man thumbed the softness under Bucky’s chin, slid his hand down to Bucky’s meaty arm and gave it a filthy squeeze. His eyes drifted lasciviously up and down Bucky’s body, cataloguing every inch. “Did you do this to yourself, Sergeant Barnes? Have you been trying to soften up the soldier inside you?”

 

Bucky swallowed thickly, tucking his chin and trying to keep his breathing even. The man’s fingers were like frostbite on his skin. “Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

 

The man gripped Bucky by the forearm and pushed him gently into a plush chair. His arms were still tied behind him, pulling his shoulders back and forcing his belly to round out obscenely in front of him. He pressed his thighs together as he felt the soft fabric slide farther up, tickling up his chubby sides and revealing the dark curve of his belly button. 

 

The man loomed over him, one hand outstretched. “You think you could hide from me,  _ Soldat? _ Start a new life and let the Captain fatten you up like a trophy wife?” He put his wide palm on Bucky’s thick love handle and gave it a gentle squeeze. He let his hand run up Bucky’s fat side, over the thick roll that’s formed around his back, and he thumbed the stubble over Bucky’s softened jawline. “Look how wide and soft you are,  _ Soldat. готовы соблюдать?”  _ He barked out a laugh and pinched Bucky’s cheek, the two other men in the room joining in his laughter. 

 

Heat rushed to Bucky’s cheeks and he jerked his head away from the man’s fingers. His overlong hair fell into his eyes and he tugged at the wrist restraints again. Shame flooded over him anew at the man’s words and the truth behind them. When he was the Soldier, it would have been child’s play for him to break free of such simple restraints. Even before he was captured, he could have easily freed himself and taken on the three men in the room. But now, here he was, round and lethargic. There was no way he could stand a chance like this. 

 

Silence fell, and the man smoothed an almost reverent hand over the curve of Bucky’s plump belly. Bucky jerked away in response, curling in on himself as best as he could. He felt exposed from every angle, like a fattened pig prepared for dinner. The man drank him in with his gaze, openly staring with a small smirk. 

 

“You’ll be a good boy, or I’ll have to remind you of your place, hm?” He gave a gentle pinch to the soft skin of Bucky’s underbelly, and Bucky pushed his bottom back further into the chair, trying to suck in his soft stomach away from the man’s teasing fingers. 

 

He closed his eyes then, knowing he had to be compliant. He couldn’t become the Soldier again, he’d sworn he would never let anyone back into his head. The Soldier would do anything he was told; the Soldier would kill Steve. 

 

He tried to even his breaths again and to think about Steve. Bucky knew Steve would come for him when he found out, and would probably barge through the door in the most reckless of ways. Shame flooded his cheeks again when he thought about all Steve would do to protect him and the danger he was putting Steve through now that Bucky was too soft and weak to take care of himself. 

 

He wondered what Steve would think, seeing him growing out of his clothes and trussed up so easily at the mercy of his captors. He felt ashamed, but then he thought of Steve’s eyes roaming over him, his calloused hands on Bucky’s skin, that soft, secret smile he saved only for Bucky. 

 

Trapped as he was now, he was reminded of a day when Steve had walked in on him changing. They had just finished dinner, Steve serving him plate after plate of homemade lasagna--Steve’s Ma’s recipe. When he couldn’t finish his final serving, Steve had pulled his chair closer until he had caged Bucky in between his thighs and began feeding him the rest himself. Bucky had never been so full in his life, stuffed to the gills and feeling his too-tight clothes cutting into his soft flesh. 

  
  


Bucky had excused himself in an attempt to find bigger, more comfortable clothes when Steve walked in on him changing. Bucky was standing in front of the mirror, clad only in his underwear. He was running his hands over his hanging belly, hefting it in his hands to feel it’s weight while watching himself in the mirror. When he noticed Steve, he froze, wide blue eyes fixed on the man. Bucky spared a glance at his reflection, seeing himself as Steve had caught him. His chest was wide and soft, his pecs like small breasts that touched his gut when he sat down, sweat gathering beneath them when he got too warm. His nipples were sensitive from the stretched skin, always hard under his thin T-shirts and jutting out embarrassingly. His thighs were thick and his ass was thicker, pulling at the black fabric of his boxer briefs. He could barely keep them over his swollen cheeks, the fabric always creeping in between them in a humiliating reminder that he was already too fat for his underwear. His jawline was slowly creeping from soft to a full double chin, and he’d let the shadow of his beard grow out in an attempt to hide it. His belly hung pendulously in front of him, the skin stretched and itchy after eating so much at dinner he could barely move. He’d been inspecting the first of three angry red stretch marks curling toward his deep belly button when Steve walked in, and there was no denying his soft body now. 

 

Keeping his hands on his full stomach, which rose and fell softly with Bucky’s labored breathing, he watched Steve through the mirror as he silently crossed the room and placed his hands on Bucky’s skin, cupping his belly in his hands. His touch was gentle, yet firm, holding him snugly and securely. He started rubbing a slow circle against the side of Bucky’s gut, fingers pressing into his skin in a way that made his muscles go lax. Bucky felt his cock begin to stiffen and fight for space in his underwear, and he bucked his hips softly, absentmindedly looking for friction. He let his head fall back against Steve’s shoulder, and felt wet lips press a kiss to the exposed skin of his neck. 

 

Steve placed his hands over Bucky’s and moved his lips to his ear. “Keep rubbing,” Steve murmured, and Bucky could feel that his face was on fire, a blush moving down his neck to disappear into his dark chest hair. His skin tingled with embarrassment and his heart thundered in his chest, but when Steve touched him, sweet and slow and with so much love, it was no different than every other time he’d stripped off Bucky’s clothes. He’d been scared Steve was just overlooking his body, loving him despite the way he’d slowly grown out of his clothes. 

 

Bucky did as he was told, moving his hands over the skin of his belly, which was so swollen tonight it had pushed down the elastic waistband of his underwear until it folded over twice. He’d been fidgeting all through dinner to get comfortable, but the rough material had been cutting him in two with each bite. Steve kept his eyes on Bucky’s through the mirror and moved his hands to the thick curves of fat that had swelled out of his sides. He hooked his long fingers inside the skin-tight fabric of Bucky’s underwear and slowly pushed them down his hips. He took his time, and when he freed Bucky’s stiff member, it sprang forward, hard and aching, the head kissing the low curve of his underbelly. A warm bead of pre-cum left behind made him gasp. Steve pulled the worn fabric from between his full cheeks, and Bucky’s head dropped, shame heating his cheeks anew. He could feel a fold of fat under his chin. 

 

Steve didn’t say a word, just chucked Bucky under the chin and lifted his gaze back up to meet Steve’s own in the mirror. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a light squeeze before letting his calloused palm trail down Bucky’s back. His fingertips were light, almost teasing over the skin, and then came to rest on the swell of Bucky’s ass. He let his hand rest there, almost hovering. Bucky could feel himself trembling under Steve’s gentle touches. 

Steve let his eyes roam up and down Bucky’s now naked body. Bucky was still running his hands over his belly, as Steve had directed, not planning on stopping until Steve allowed him to. 

Steve ran the thumb of his free hand through the slick precum cooling on Bucky’s skin. He let it slowly drift upward until he could circle it around the dark circle of Bucky’s deep navel. 

By now, Bucky was practically panting, so exposed in front of the mirror and Steve’s probing touch. 

 

He wanted to say something, anything, but Steve was petting him so sweetly, keeping him strung out and pliant under his ministrations, that his words died in his throat. Steve alternated between running his fingertips over the skin of Bucky’s paunch and dipping his finger into his belly button, lingering to let Bucky feel his own weight hang on Steve’s thumb. Every time he slid it out, Bucky could feel his belly quiver in response. 

 

After the fourth pass, Bucky couldn’t stand the ministrations any more. His hips jerked forward against his will, and he let his body completely relax against Steve’s. He told himself that even if Steve found him repulsive, even if he wished Bucky would lose weight and go back to his previously leaner body, for just this moment Steve loved him and wanted to take care of him. 

Bucky let his head roll back against Steve’s shoulder, who stopped to cup Bucky’s underbelly in one large palm. Suddenly, the hand cupping his bottom sprung to life, giving his ass a filthy squeeze before moving around to cup his throbbing cock. His thumb gently swiped over the head, right where Bucky liked it, and he let out a whimper that was really a barely concealed shout. 

 

“Feel good, Buck?” His gravelly voice finally brushed over Bucky’s ear, and he gave his dick a lazy pump. 

 

Bucky swallowed heavily and nodded. Damn it, his entire body was quivering. 

 

“I--I’m sorry, Stevie.” He managed. 

 

“Sorry for what, Buck?”

 

They meet each other’s gaze in the mirror, and Steve pointedly looked down to where Bucky’s large hands had come to rest on his swollen gut. Bucky swore Steve could see right through him, how his fingers were itching to rub his skin again, how his filthy mind was begging Steve to order him touch himself all over again. 

 

“For...for this,” he whispered, eyes moving up and down his own naked body. 

 

Steve let out a laugh that Bucky knew not many people had heard. It’s deep and low, an evil chuckle that is most certainly not Captain America. 

 

“What, Bucky? You think I don’t like this?” He stroked Bucky’s cock slowly, moving his other hand to grab a handful of love handle at Bucky’s side. Bucky swallowed thickly. 

 

“You think I don’t like you like this, sweet and soft and round?”

 

Bucky couldn’t help it, a loud moan blurted out of him at Steve’s words, and he bucked up into Steve’s grasp. 

 

“You think I haven’t noticed you’ve been getting bigger? You didn’t, did you?” 

 

He looked at Bucky through the mirror, his smile mischievous. “You think I would keep feeding you if I think you didn’t like it?” Bucky sucked in a gasp. 

 

“You don’t think I know your secret, sweetheart?” One large palm slowly skimmed over Bucky’s stretched skin, his fingers on Bucky’s round belly. Bucky unconsciously sucked in at his words, his belly barely moving from Steve’s touch. Before he could think, Steve’s hand tickled his fat side and thumbed the head of Bucky’s cock, causing the breath to rush out of him. 

 

“I’ve got you, Buck. It’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me anymore,” he whispered into Bucky’s ear, his voice like gravel. Bucky bit back a moan. The relief was so palpable it made his knees wobbly, and he closed his eyes and leaned back against Steve’s chest. 

 

Bucky let out a whimper as Steve’s hand came up to gently thumb at one of his swollen nipples. It was almost enough for him to come undone. He writhed under Steve’s touch, his hips rutting uncontrollably against Steve’s fist. He’d never been so overwhelmed. Steve’s hands were everywhere, touching him 

 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me, Buck? Why didn’t you tell me you liked this?”

 

The words made Bucky duck his head, avoiding Steve’s blue eyes as old fears tingled down his spine. Steve’s firm hand came to his jaw and forced him to look forward at Steve’s face in the mirror. 

 

He stayed silent, begging Steve with his eyes to not make him admit his worst fears aloud. Realization dawned over Steve’s kind face, and he tightened his hands over Bucky. 

 

“You didn’t think I’d want you? Is that it?”

 

Bucky let out a low noise, unable to form words at this point. Steve kept his hand to Bucky’s chin when he tried to look away, trapping his big body against Steve’s with just two hands. 

 

“Bucky, I don’t care what you look like. You could lose every bit of this weight and I’d still see you just the same, I’d still want you as badly as I do now. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love how soft you’ve gotten,” he turned his nose to nuzzle Bucky’s ear, his voice dropping low again. “I love watching you grow and knowing that you’re letting me do it. I love you, Buck. I love taking care of you, and I’m just lucky that you let me.”

 

Bucky’s eyes shot open. It was the first time Steve had said anything so serious. He opened his mouth, panting in Steve’s arms and at a loss for words. 

 

“Will you let me take care of you now?” Steve’s question hung in the air, and Bucky nodded helplessly as Steve tightened his fingers around Bucky’s weeping cock. Suddenly, his mouth was everywhere, covering every exposed inch of skin he could reach with his mouth. Steve’s fingers were firm over his scorched skin, but he didn’t quicken the pace, dragging out the sparks dancing along Bucky’s spine. 

 

“Please,” he begged, his voice a quiet moan. 

 

“Please, what, baby?”

 

Bucky felt like a puppet, Steve pulling him in every direction. Teeth nibbling the fold at his neck, warm fingers tickling the skin of his underbelly until he jerked backwards, Steve’s stiff cock jutting into his full cheeks. He was trapped, at the mercy of Steve’s lethargic fingers to bring him to release. 

 

“Please, make me come, Stevie. Please?”

 

“It won’t take much, will it, Buck? You’re so close, aren’t you? Just thinking about how thick and round you are, and you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself, can you?”

 

Bucky’s at a loss for words at this point, just squirming and panting, his lips pressed against Steve’s skin. 

 

“Because as much as I’ve been helping, sneaking extra food onto your plate, you got fat all on your own, didn’t you, Bucky?”

 

Bucky let out a whine, blood pounding in his ears. He was so close, his skin was on fire, his body was trembling beneath Steve’s fingers. He felt like he was going to burst at the seams, both stuffed full from dinner and from Steve’s words thrusting him toward the edge. 

 

Suddenly, Steve stopped, his hand wrapped loosely around Bucky’s cock and only just touching the head. The fingers of his other hand gently tickled up Bucky's round belly. 

 

Steve leaned in to whisper in Bucky’s ear, his lips wet and only barely brushing Bucky’s skin.

 

“You did this to yourself, didn’t you? And you couldn’t stop even if you tried. You just can’t help yourself, just getting bigger right before my eyes.”

 

Bucky couldn’t tell if it was Steve’s words or the way he tightened his grip around Bucky’s cock and flicked his wrist just so, but it sent him over the edge, crying out and spending himself across his own belly and Steve’s hand. 

 

Steve placed a warm kiss to his cheek and ran his palm through the wetness cooling on Bucky’s skin, giving his belly a gentle pat. Bucky could only stand shivering against him, trying to catch his breath. He’d never come so hard before. 

 

“How long?” Bucky dared to ask after he’d caught his breath. 

 

Steve met his eyes in the mirror, his baby blues honest and loving. “How long since what? Since I knew?”

 

Bucky nodded, wanting so badly to look away even after all that had just happened. He could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks again. 

 

Steve just leaned over him, wrapping his arms tightly around Bucky’s waist and resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. 

 

“Buck, I’ve known since that day I brought those cookies to the VA that Mrs. Wilson made. I’ve never seen you smile so big in my life. I knew then I was a goner.” He pinched affectionately at Bucky’s cheek, chasing it with a kiss as Bucky tried to squirm away, smiling despite himself. 


	2. Found

When Bucky forces his eyes open, the scene with Steve has receded back into his memory like wisps of smoke. His wrists are still tied with cord, but tight plastic digs into his skin, and he looks down to see that his ankles are bound to the chair with thick zip ties, and his forearms are bound roughly behind him with the same restraint and secured to the back of the chair. 

 

He shakes his head muzzily, trying to clear away the cobwebs. He can’t remember how long he’s been out, but the room is dark now, lit only by the emergency exit signs above the two doors. Bucky thinks he must have fallen asleep, but then a burning, acrid taste looms in the back of his throat, and he knows one of his captors must have slipped him something. His stomach churns at the thought, and then makes itself known, audibly growling. He tugs feebly at the restraints, aching to rub a soothing hand over his belly. 

 

Bucky is surprised to find how much he yearns for Steve’s touch, despite the low thrumming fear of being held at the mercy of strangers. He feels like he’d give anything just to feel the brush of his skin again, always warm and always kind. He misses him with a ferocity that makes his eyes burn, and Bucky ducks his chin to his chest again. 

 

Out of nowhere, he hears the screech of a metal door and light floods the room. Bucky squints against the light, but refuses to close his eyes. His extremities are numb from the tight bindings, and he writhes against them, trying to move himself back into the dark, but it’s no use. He hears loud voices outside, panicked and moving closer, but they’re suddenly quieted with a muffled  _ thump.  _ When the spots clear from his eyes, he sees a dark silhouette in the doorway and his heart is in his throat, because he knows it’s Steve. He knows the squared shoulders, the impossibly thick biceps, and the narrow waist that defies all logic. He doesn’t even notice the Captain America uniform or the shield when Steve steps into the light, because Bucky’s finding his bright blue eyes, dark with worry, his blond brow furrowed. 

 

“ _ Bucky _ !”

 

He’s crossed the room in a flash, biting his bottom lip and cupping Bucky’s cheek in his hand. Bucky leans into the touch, and he’s surprised and embarrassed to feel his throat burn, tears threatening to spill over as he relishes in the simple touch. Steve is here, and Bucky is safe. As long as Steve’s here, nothing bad can happen to him. 

 

He ducks his head and tries to hide his eyes, but Steve grasps his chin and forces him to look up. He presses a quick, soft kiss to Bucky’s forehead, and even though Bucky hears the patter of feet running in the room and around them, Steve bends to whisper in his ear. 

 

“It’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

 

He’s gone as quickly as he came, and Bucky feels fingers behind him at his restraints. A blonde woman he’s passed in the street more than once leans over his shoulder. 

 

“Sergeant Barnes?” He hears the distinct hush of a knife flipping open, and his hands are free. She crouches at his feet, dressed in a black leather catsuit. 

 

“It’s Bucky. You must be the Black Widow.”

 

She gives him a small smirk, her lips full and painted red. “It’s Natasha.”

 

From seemingly nowhere, she produces an assault rifle. “I take it you know how to use this?”

 

He answers her with a smirk of his own. 

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s throat is still burning when Steve leads him into the apartment, never letting go of his hand, even as Steve unbuckles the shield harness. It falls carelessly to the floor with a clatter, and Steve guides Bucky to the couch. Steve kneels at Bucky’s feet with a sort of quiet reverence, and though Steve’s hands are only resting at his knees, Bucky blushes at the attention. Wordlessly, Steve spreads Bucky’s knees, his eyes on his belly as it rolls forward to settle between them. Steve slides in close and puts a hand on each of Bucky’s hips, his fingers going to the hem of the T-shirt. 

 

Bucky’s expecting Steve to apologize, and he’s ready to shut him down, no matter how many times he has to do it. What he’s not ready for is the way Steve meticulously checks every square inch of his body for potential damage. Steve taps his forearm lightly, and Bucky raises his arms over his head. The soft material of his shirt slides away, and Bucky shivers; he can’t tell if it’s from chill of the room or the heat in Steve’s gaze. His fingers curl around the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants, Steve’s deft fingers sliding under the soft fold of fat on his sides. He clucks his tongue softly, and Bucky raises his butt off the couch as Steve’s slides the fabric down and away from his body. 

 

He starts his inspection at Bucky’s wrists, making a low noise in his throat and brushing his fingers over the raw skin. 

 

It seems so silly now, how scared Bucky was, since he made it out in one piece with only some rope burn and a few bruises. And yet, fear still clenches at his throat, chokes tears into his eyes. He’s so exposed in front of Steve, bare on the couch in only his underwear, and he finds all he wants to do is curl into his arms. 

 

His jaw clenches in anger when the first tear drips down his cheek and lands like a raindrop on his belly. He jerks a hand over his face to wipe them away, but Steve softly grabs his hands again, speaking for the first time since they arrived home. 

 

“Hey.” His voice is little more than a deep whisper. “Don’t hide from me, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared.”

 

His voice soothes the raw, scraped edges of Bucky’s nerves, but he hates being coddled. Steve’s fingers are firm on his chin once again, and his blue eyes sear through Bucky like ice. 

 

“I was afraid too, you know,” he tells Bucky, his voice dropping impossibly low, so he can barely be heard. “Maybe even more afraid than you.”

 

Suddenly Bucky feels childish for being upset, seeing Steve’s expression crumple as he leans forward to rest his cheek against Bucky’s belly. He nuzzles at Bucky’s skin, places a gentle kiss on the round swell of his paunch, right above his belly button. He kisses him once, twice, three times, following the line of dark hair that trails down his belly while his fingers trace the smooth, soft skin of his sides that round over the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

 

The attention is too much; he craved it for what felt like so long while he was away from Steve, and when he closes his eyes, he sees his Captor, his smile wicked as he runs his hands over Bucky’s belly. 

 

“Did he touch you, baby?” Bucky sucks in a breath and forces his eyes open, but Steve is running his thumb over the lower curve of Bucky’s belly, the thick roll that has just started to round out between his thighs. Bucky nods, resists the urge to suck in his gut as Steve continues to inspect it. 

 

“You’ve got a bruise here.”

 

Bucky cranes his head, though he knows it’s no use. “I can’t see it.”

 

Steve smirks, and for Bucky, it lights up the whole room. “Good.”

 

His eyes darken. “Did he hurt you? Did he hit you?”

 

Bucky bites his lip, lets it drag between his teeth before he speaks. “He pinched me. He--uh, he touched me. My sides a--and my uh, my belly.” He swallows, embarrassment burning his cheeks as he says the words. Steve just watches him, waiting quietly until he finishes. 

 

“He touched, uh...he touched my face, too.” Steve brings a hand toward his cheek and Bucky forces the words out. “He cupped my cheek, like you do.” 

 

Steve snatches the hand away as if burned. 

 

“No, no! Please, Stevie,” his voice betrays him, voice breaking in panic and desperation. 

“Please touch me.” 

 

Before he can blink, he’s scooped up in Steve’s strong arms, one hand cupping his cheek. 

 

“Let’s get you a bath. Get you feeling better.”

 

* * *

 

Steve’s testing the bathwater with the back of his hand, looking as worried as a new mother as he crouches over the tub.

 

Once Steve’s satisfied, the warm water swirling with soothing oils, he helps Bucky lower himself into the water, his chubby sides brushing against the porcelain tub. 

 

“You get any bigger and I’ll have to put in a garden tub, eh, Buck?” Steve leans down to whisper, lips just brushing the shell of Bucky’s ear. Goosebumps spring up over his skin and Steve cups the growing roll of fat at his waist. 

 

“I’d really like to stay here and get you cleaned up, but I need to make sure you get a good meal in you after today, okay?” He brushes his thumb across Bucky’s cheek, his lips curling into a playful smile. He presses a rag and a bar of soap into Bucky’s hand and leaves him with soft, warm kiss, closing the door behind him. Bucky settles into the water, his skin warm and slick. His head reels with Steve’s words, his gentle touches, and the promise of what awaits him when he gets out of the bath. He closes his eyes, sinks further into the water, and lets his mind wander as the tension slowly seeps out of his body. 

 

* * *

 

It’s less than half an hour later and Bucky’s scrubbed the grit and grime of the day away. He’s trying to will himself over the mound of his belly to let out the now lukewarm water and to climb out of the tub. Luckily, Steve makes the decision for him.

 

“Buck,” his blond brow furrows and he drops to his haunches beside the bathtub. “Isn’t the water cold? What are you still doing in here?”

 

Bucky squirms under his gaze, and Steve presses a hand to his belly where it rises out of the bathwater. “You’re cold, babe. C’mon, up you get.”

 

Bucky pushes himself back with a grunt, but he grabs Steve’s wrist as something catches his eye. 

 

“You got a little somethin’,” Bucky says, pulling Steve back down to crouch next to him. He spots a dark smudge near the corner of Steve’s lips, and it’s all Bucky can do not to kiss the filthy smirk off his face. 

 

“What are you up to, you little punk?” Bucky asks, voice low. He tugs Steve forward until his hands are resting on the side of the tub and Bucky can mouth at the mischievous grin plastered across Steve’s handsome mug. 

 

Probing inspection from Bucky’s tongue reveals the mysterious material to be chocolate frosting. Buttercream, to be exact. A thrill tingles up Bucky’s spine, and he doesn’t know whether to be excited or ashamed to feel his dick twitch in the cooling bathwater. He savors the flavor on his tongue, looking at Steve for further direction. 

 

“Let me dry you off, and I’ll give you more than a taste.” Steve grins, pushing himself to his feet.

 

Bucky heaves himself up with a grunt and a hand from Steve, water streaming down his sides, down the mound of his gut, and running rivulets down his thick thighs. He’s too excited to blush as he watches Steve’s pupils dilate until there’s nothing left but a thin outline of his baby blues. 

 

* * *

 

Dressed in his favorite sweats, another stolen T-shirt from Steve’s closet, and his softest socks, Bucky chases the last of the noodles from his bowl, finishing his third serving of mac and cheese. He’s trying to hold back, looking forward to the rich buttercream he tasted from Steve’s lips, but he can’t turn down Steve’s cooking and he knows it. There’s a large square left in the casserole dish, its buttery cracker crust still intact and a thick cheese sauce oozing over the pan. He doesn’t even have to look up to see Steve sliding the whole dish in front of him and scooping up a spoonful. 

 

Steve clucks his tongue softly, and Bucky’s eyes snap up obediently. He rubs his belly as an afterthought and watches Steve’s eyes darken as he does. His hand feels good on his own stretched skin, the touch light and teasing. He can’t believe he’s able to do this, be open and honest with Steve about how much he loves stuffing himself until he can barely move. His cock is slowly swelling in his sweatpants, which are pulled tightly over his hips, the worn cotton stretched to its limits. He wants to close his eyes, relish in the feeling, but Steve holds his gaze, his blue eyes bright and earnest. 

 

Bucky opens his mouth without complaint, letting the first warm bite slide down his throat. 

 

“Good boy,” Steve murmurs softly, his eyes trailing over Bucky like he’s made of gold. He runs his long fingers through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently until Bucky’s mouth falls open again. Steve’s low voice rumbles out praises and quiet words of encouragement with each bite that passes Bucky’s lips. 

 

Bucky preens under the attention, each spoonful going down easier with Steve’s gentle kisses and caresses. His hands are everywhere, tickling, teasing brushes of his fingers at Bucky’s thighs, his arms, his belly, the softness under his jaw. Before long, the dish is empty on the table and he feels the cool air on his exposed skin, his T-shirt having ridden up to gather at his waist. 

 

He can barely hold his eyes open, feeling full and sated and so very heavy. His breathing comes in little pants, his thighs spread wide to let his swollen tummy hang between them. He stifles a heavy belch behind his fist when Steve comes back in with the cake. 

 

It’s something that belongs on the cover of a magazine, dark chocolate frosting spread thick over several layers. It smells sinfully sweet, and Bucky rubs his overfull gut in protest. 

 

“I don’t know, Stevie. I don’t think I can eat any more.”

 

Steve scoffs at him, and instead of placing the cake on the table, he holds out a hand to Bucky. 

 

“Well of course you can’t, not like this.” Steve looks down pointedly to where Bucky sits in the wooden chair, struggling to stay upright as his core muscles threaten to fold under the pressure of his bloated gut. He tugs futilely at the hem of his tight T-shirt. 

 

Steve pulls him up with ease, his breath catching when Bucky presses a hand to his round stomach like a pregnant woman. Steve leads him to the living room and places the cake on the coffee table. Before Bucky can settle into his favorite spot in the corner of the couch, Steve stops him. 

 

“We gotta get you out of these clothes, Buck. As much as I’d love to watch you eat your way out of them, I want you to be comfortable tonight.”

 

Steve runs his hands down Bucky’s wide shoulders, fingers skimming along the stretched seam of his shirtsleeves where they cut into his soft triceps. He shivers at the thought of being naked in front of Steve, gorged like this. Bucky wants to protest, but he knows he can’t. He’s all but panting at the thought of Steve’s hands on his bare skin. He’s never been this full, this satiated, and he knows the chocolate cake in front of him will only push him over the edge. 

 

“We’re gonna have to buy you some new clothes soon, baby. You’ve grown out of almost everything you have, and you don’t fit into mine anymore either, do you?” He leans forward, murmuring in Bucky’s ear as he finds the hem of the T-shirt. As swollen as he is, it barely covers his belly button when pulled all the way down. 

 

Steve pulls the shirt over Bucky’s head, placing soft kisses to his shoulder, his collar bones, and the middle of his chest before he reaches beneath Bucky’s belly to get to the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. 

 

In one swift motion, he’s stripped bare, and Bucky hears Steve’s quick intake of breath when he realizes Bucky’s not wearing any underwear. He curls a hand almost protectively over Bucky’s flank. 

 

“Are you--are you too fat for your underwear, Buck?” He asks lowly, and Bucky can see the red flush crawling out of the neck of Steve’s shirt. Bucky nods minutely, ducking his head. 

 

Steve runs a hand over his face, looking ruined. He gives one of Bucky’s thighs a healthy pinch before lowering him to the couch, making sure he’s comfortable and propped up with several pillows before setting the cake in his lap. 

 

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the feelings of everything that has transpired since they got home. His cheeks are hot, his skin is buzzing with arousal and anticipation. Even though he knows it’s only Steve in the room and the shades drawn on all the windows, he can’t help but try to cover himself with his hands. It’s the feeling of the cool leather against his hot, stretched skin, rubbing against his love handles, against the sensitive skin of his turgid sack between his thighs and his bare ass. He lets the shame of being so exposed in front of Steve wash over him, pumps his hips weakly when arousal shoots down to his cock, which has been hard and leaking since he was at the kitchen table. 

 

Something warm and sticky prods at his lips, and Bucky opens his mouth to take it, yielding without opening his eyes. Steve gently pulls Bucky’s hands away while he feeds him the first bite, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. He places a calloused palm over Bucky’s swollen belly. 

 

“Let me see you, Buck. You’re so gorgeous like this, laid out for me to see.”

 

The cake is even better than he imagined, warm and so rich that it clings to his throat as he swallows it down. He’s still savoring the sweetness of the chocolate when Steve presses another forkful into his mouth just as he parts his lips, gentle but insistent. Steve tilts a glass of cold milk to his lips, and Bucky knows it’s going to be a long night. 

 

His hands rest on his spread thighs, and Steve directs him to place them on his belly. 

 

“Go on,” he says, his eyes bright and watching Bucky like a hawk. “Rub yourself. I know you want to.” Bucky bites back a groan and lets Steve chase it with another forkful of cake. 

 

It’s hard to tell how long they stay there, Bucky squirming on the couch, rocking his hips backward in an attempt to rut against the cushions. He itches to touch his cock, to slide his hands down just a little lower from where they run over his gut and thrust into his fist. 

 

But more than that, he misses Steve’s touch. He’s right in front of Bucky, his eyes almost predatory as he feeds Bucky bite after bite of decadent dessert. At this point, Bucky’s trying to keep his head above water, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can last. The feelings are starting to overwhelm him: his increasing fullness, his scorched skin, and his throbbing erection. He’s moving on autopilot now, trying to get comfortable and craving Steve’s sweet, loving touches. He’s shocked to look down and see Steve forking up a bite from the last quarter of the cake, crumbs and globs of frosting littering the plate. 

 

Before Steve can offer him the cake, a short sob escapes Bucky's lips, and he grabs at Steve’s knee. 

 

The fork clatters to the plate and Steve’s hands are on him, cupping his cheek and his side. “What is it, baby? You’re doing so good, Buck. You’re so close.”

 

Words are caught in his throat, stuck there with thick chocolate frosting. He just stares at Steve, every exhale a soft whimper. He lifts Steve’s palm to his warm tummy, silently asking for even the smallest touch. 

 

Steve gives him a smile sweeter than the serving of cake he presses to Bucky’s obedient lips. 

 

“Do you even see yourself right now? Do you know how incredible you look, what you do to me, Buck?”

 

Bucky shivers at the way Steve’s thumb tenderly rubs little circles over his skin. He reaches out blindly, clutching at Steve’s shirt and tugging him closer. 

 

“What do you need, hm? You need me to touch you, baby doll?”

 

That does it, the sweet little endearment sends Bucky tipping over the edge and spinning out of control. He nods, blinking back tears as he presses his face into Steve’s neck. He’s coming unravelled under Steve’s gentle ministrations, crazy with desire and the need to have Steve inside him, making him impossibly fuller than he feels right now. He’s panting, hips bucking rapidly as Steve’s free hand twists in Bucky’s long hair. 

 

“Settle down now, three more big bites and I’ll give you what you want.”

 

Bucky stills instantly, but it’s barely contained as tremors dance over his body. 

 

Bucky forces his eyes open, eyeing the challenge in front of him and drinking in Steve’s still clothed body like a dying man in the dessert. The room is quiet but for his heaving breaths. 

 

The first bite feels easy, he hurries to swallow it down and opens his mouth like a baby bird for the second. He feels full all the way up to his chin, like his esophagus is packed tight with cake and frosting. Steve tips the last drops of milk into his mouth and loads up the last bite onto the fork. 

 

Before he pushes it into Bucky’s mouth, Steve slides as close as he can, caging Bucky against the couch cushions. He slides a hand down Bucky’s sweaty back, pulling him effortlessly onto his lap and curling a hand over his bare ass. Bucky can’t help but gasp at the cool air on his hot, damp skin, and Steve takes the opportunity to slide the last bite into his open mouth. 

 

“You did it, Buck. That was a whole cake---an entire cake all right here.” His hand runs over Bucky’s ridiculously round gut, satisfyingly firm and rubbing him just the way he needs it. “I can’t believe you did it. You didn’t even question me. Just ate everything I offered you.” He presses lips to the skin of Bucky’s neck, the kisses faster and more insistent. “What do you need, doll? You’ve been so good, baby, so good for me.  I’ll give you whatever you want.” He fists his hands in Bucky’s hair, tilting his head back and raising his eyes to meet Steve’s. 

 

Bucky struggles to keep his eyes open, to focus on The man in front of him, but all he can feel is the enormous weight of his gut, the fullness of it pressing down on his cock, which feels as full to bursting as his belly. 

 

Steve leans forward, supporting Bucky with a hand on his back, and when he hears the click of the lube cap, he cries out with relief. Steve shushes him, his voice gravelly as he murmurs gentle praises in Bucky’s ear, holding him as Bucky tries to rut against Steve’s thighs, but his belly is in the way. 

 

After some fumbling and adjusting, Steve’s pants are hurriedly pushed down around his knees and he opens his legs, effectively spreading Bucky’s cheeks. He strips off his shirt, finally pulling Bucky's body against his own, skin on skin. Bucky presses his mouth to Steve’s shoulder to stifle a groan as the first finger swirls around his entrance and slides past the tight ring of muscle. 

 

“Let it out, Buck. Let me hear you.”

 

Bucky shakes his head, moisture gathering at his eyes. He feels like Steve’s hands on his skin are the only thing holding him together. He fears if he opens his mouth, he’ll fly apart. 

 

When Steve slides a second finger in, gently twisting and rubbing just below the aching core of Bucky’s arousal, he nearly loses it. He can’t hold on much longer. 

 

“Now, Stevie. Please, please, baby. I gotta--I need--now, please, please---”

 

He’s mumbling, begging, incoherent and rutting into Steve’s lap, aching for release. He’s so big, so swollen, he can only feel the skin of his belly against his cock. 

 

Steve presses his forehead to Bucky’s, silently asking for his attention. His wide blue eyes feel like they’re searing through Bucky from the inside out. 

 

He raises his eyebrows, sounding wrecked. “You ready for me, baby?”

 

Bucky feels himself being lifted like he weighs no more than a sack of flour, adjusted until he feels the press of Steve’s cock at his slick entrance, and he can’t hold back the loud moans that pulse out of him. 

 

It’s dead silent when Steve finally pushes into him. He feels whole, finally, satisfied in a way only Steve could fill him. He tries to pump his hips, seeking more friction, but he’s barely able to move as his overfull body is pressed tightly, almost uncomfortably so, against Steve’s, when Steve starts to move in response. 

 

He keeps his eyes open and so does Steve; Bucky feels like he can’t look away. Steve’s cock drives deep into his ass, hitting his spot again and again. He feels like he could have spent himself a hundred times by now, and he’s been clinging to his last ounce of control like his life depends on it. 

 

Everything hits him at once when he realizes he feels so safe, so protected in Steve’s arms, cared for in ways he never even thought possible. Steve’s hands around his body, his gut full to bursting with food Steve prepared for him, every inch of his ass filled with Steve’s thick cock. 

 

He’s panting, sucking heaving gasps through clenched teeth when Steve tightens his hands around Bucky’s body, and the light pressure squeezes his throbbing cock beneath the pressure of his belly. Bucky lets go, feels the last shred of control slip between his fingers. He’s crying out, spending himself again and again between their bodies as Steve holds him tightly, still thrusting into him erratically. 

 

He presses his teeth into the thick muscle of Bucky’s shoulder and he’s then following him into release, muffling his cries against Bucky’s skin. 

  
  


* * *

 

It feels like days have passed when they come back to each other, Bucky blinking muzzily as he raises his head from Steve’s shoulder. The man beneath him looks unreal, dreamlike even, as he smiles sleepily up at Bucky, one hand still curled around his back even as Bucky pushes himself up. He lets a hand drift lazily over Bucky’s stomach, leading him to look down and realize how truly huge looks now, his sore belly pressed against Steve’s chiseled abdomen.

 

Bucky licks his lips, still sticky with residual sugar. “Did that really just happen?” His voice is cracked and gravelly, barely making it above a whisper. 

 

Steve looks as if he’s gathering every inch of his superhuman strength to shift forward, close enough that he can lick at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, flopping back into the couch cushions with a contented sigh. He smacks his lips and grins up at Bucky like the Cheshire cat. 

 

“Yeah, I think it did.” He jostles Bucky’s round gut between them, pressing it between his probing fingers until a deep belch forces itself out of Bucky's throat. “I’ve got proof too.”

 

Bucky goes to rub his fingers over the stretched skin, but Steve’s hands tighten over him suddenly and his expression changes in a flash, from sleepy and sated to hot and hungry. 

 

Later, when Bucky looks back on what should have been one of the worst days of his life, he won’t remember the traumatic experience of being kidnapped, humiliated, and held against his will. 

Instead, he’ll remember the hours he spent being lovingly fed and cared for by Steve Rogers from the moment Bucky was back in his arms and long into the night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has subscribed, commented, or left kudos! They mean so much!  
> My eternal thanks to my truly phenomenal beta, CapriciousKitten. Thank you for sticking with me til the end and always being will to do a last minute read through. I don't deserve you!


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